Karak Norn Clansman
Member
Squat Bomb
Harken! Baseline humanity is flimsy, fickle, false and frail, for mankind is always prone to blow like leaves in the wind. Trust them not. In comparison, Squats are reliable, strong and tough, akin to mighty oaks. Kin are after all stout and stalwart beings, calculating and constant, dour and stubborn, meticulous and methodical in everything that they do. Their exacting lives revolve around toil, perfectionism and results, and Gnostari pour their dogged souls into all of their hard work. As such, when the fruits of their labour again and again turn out rotten, and their efforts end up wasted and flawed, such a cycle of repeated failures in life-toil can break a Heliosi Ancient beyond repair. For what good is a Homo Sapiens Rotundus when their life's worth of toil, ingenuity and exploration end up as a failed equation to report back to the Ancestor Core?
When a Squat become thus loaded with debt, waste and failings, the effect on their mind is akin to the fall of a mighty oak, and the shattering of their identity and sense of self is utterly devastating to such a hard-working perfectionist. What emerges out of such a fall is a Broken Kin, known in the tongue of the Demiurg as a Kreimnyr or a Sleivyr. For these shunned outcasts there remain nothing but to seek death and absolution in battle so as to escape their crushing guilt and monetary debt alike.
The crazed Kreimnyr will usually affix their beard and hair in outlandish styles and dye them in all kinds of vibrant and even neon colours. These mad Kreg will then strip naked and gird themselves with explosive vests. The more spectacular their death, the better. And so Squat Bombs can be found dangling under the wings of Iron Eagle Gyrocopters and other aircraft of the Leagues of Votann, yelling curses while the speedy winds chill their flesh cold enough to kill a baseline man. For these Broken Kin, doom awaits. Thus Grome suicide bombers are dropped away from on high together with inert munitions, to reach personal oblivion and rain death upon their claim-jumping foes in the most eye-catching fashion possible, as screaming fat, hair and bomb-belt plunges to the ground like a heavy stone.
Such is the tragedy of the Squat Bomb.
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The Imperium raise a Human Bomb? We can do one better!